L'amour Par Les Bains (Ilta and Shy)

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Shortly after the names were called, Shy and Ilta would feel and odd pulling sensation. Soon they would be pulled from their locations and suddenly find themselves in a very secluded part of the springs. The springs here had a small rock over hang. Inside the edges of the springs were lined with lit candles while rose petals floated on the water. Two towels lay by the edge of the springs along with small bottles filled with fragrant bath oils. A basket also was present filled with small snacks, two wine glasses, and two large bottles of alcoholic drinks.

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Séanait had signed up for the matchmaking purely out of curiosity. She had figured that she'd be paired up with someone she didn't know, and probably a man, given that societies generally didn't encourage purely homosexual relationships. And, if she was honest, being paired up with someone she'd never met was what should would have preferred. A day of romance, possibly followed by a night of sex, and she'd be happy. She didn't want anything more than that.

As such, it had been a surprise to find that she'd been paired up with Ilta. Ilta wasn't someone Séanait was particularly attracted to - Séanait liked to be the tallest, strongest woman - and, besides, they lived together. Things could get awkward if one or the other took something wrong during the date. Still, at least she knew she could get along with Ilta without much effort. The whole day would have been ruined if she'd had to actively work at getting along with someone.

Séanait was just looking around at the heads around her, looking for Ilta's distinctive horns and purple hair, when she felt a strange tugging sensation. Her eyes went wide as she realised that magic was at play, and she looked around frantically for any sign of the mage attacking her. For once, she'd gone out without any weapon and, just now, she was feeling completely naked.

Then Séanait was falling, falling, and she hit the water with a splash. It wasn't the frigid water that might be expected of a pond or river at this time of year, but the distinctive warm water of the Crystal Spring. This registered on her mind as she came up, gasping for air and spluttering. She pushed damp hair from her eyes and struck out towards the edge. Reaching it, she hauled herself out, cursing under her breath in her native tongue.

Looking around, Séanait took in the scene within the overhang and began to suspect why she'd been dumped in the pool, instead of underneath the overhang. With a groan, she flopped onto her back and turned her head to look at Ilta.

"Whoever planned this isn't exactly subtle."

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Ilta remains sitting under the willow tree after her name is called. Her mind goes through various of ways of saying “I’m ok with whatever you have in mind”. Maybe that was fine. She can’t obviously find Shy in the crowd of people though. She isn’t sure if Shy is even around. Maybe Kail signed her up for laughs as well, in which case, there would be no reason for her to show up.

The sensation of being teleported was unsettling. Magic being cast upon someone was always unsettling though. The sensation of suddenly being underwater was downright distressing. Ilta surfaces, taking a few breaths before looking around to regain some of her bearings. The sound of water and the heat from the springs was familiar, and therefore somewhat calming. She wasn’t completely lost.

She drags herself up to the edge and out of the water about the same time Shy does. She doesn’t notice everything laid out for them until Shy pulls it out. Ilta shakes her head with a smile at the scene. “Ai is the goddess of love, not subtlety. Hell, everyone knows that she is sleeping with both Zepon and Mylee.” But, the goddess of love certainly understood how to set the mood. “At least they threw in a towel...” She grabs one of them and wraps around her for some warmth.  She then picks up one of the bottles of wine. Maybe they had good taste, and that would make being completely drenched worth it.

She pours a glass for herself and Shy. Handing Shy her glass, she says, “Alright. I’m leaving where we take things up to you. I’m honestly alright with being friends, and drinking about this, or taking this further.” She then takes a sip, looking out to the water.

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" The set up here's fine, but dumping us in the water was a bit much. At least it's not winter."

At the mention of towels, Séanait sat up and looked around. She hadn't seen them on first glance, and being dry would be very welcome. Seeing Ilta grab a bottle of wine, Séanait turned away for a second and pulled her dress over her head. On occasion, she had had to march while wet and, while linen didn't always chafe, it hadn't been an experience she had enjoyed. Nipple chafing was not fun in the least. She did, however, leave her drawers on. People in this world weren't quite as casual about nudity as they were back home and, given the situation, it might give off the wrong impression.

As Séanait turned to grab the towel, Ilta would have had a brief glimpse of Séanait's body. She was small breasted, and had three scars on the trunk of her body. One was from an arrow, up on her left shoulder, while the second was from a slanting slash between her breasts. The final scar was down near the middle of the belly and had come from a broad bladed knife. Then the scars were hidden by the towel as she wrapped it around herself, marvelling at how soft and fluffy the cloth was.

Taking the glass of wine from Ilta, Séanait listened to the taller woman tell her that she'd leave it all up to her. Séanait mulled it over in her head as she took a sip of her wine. Ilta wasn't exactly unattractive, but did she want commitment? Séanait couldn't - wouldn't - offer that. If there was an her any chance of returning home, she'd take it without hesitation. On the other hand, she might be here for some time. She shrugged.

"I think it depends on what you want. If you want any sort of permanent relationship, then it's best we stay friends. I'm not cut out for monogamy, and I intend on going home if I ever get the chance. On the other hand, if you just want a bed buddy on occasion, then I say we just sit back, drink some wine and see what happens."

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“Could have been worse. The Dragon Breath Falls is still close to freezing this time of year, but then I could have tried climbing to the top again. I can confirm that it will give you a wish, but not the one that you thought you were asking for.” She still blamed that experience as one of the reasons she was here. That and the dragon and the strange note in ravine.

Ilta is unfazed by the sudden nudity. They were in the springs after all. And, she had no qualms about people seeing her naked. However, she realizes it may be a better idea to leave her clothes to dry somewhere than sitting them while they were wet. After setting down her drink, she walks over to a nearby tree and starts laying out her own over the branches. She has a strong build with broad shoulders. Her defined waist gives femininity to her form. Patches of lavender scales are distributed randomly across her torso. Unlike Shy, she has only one scar, which was on her right shoulder. It would look like a claw mark, but the skin around it would be pitch black.

Ilta smiles and shakes her head at the mention of a commitment. “I wouldn’t call dating a human a commitment... Even so, naming a Kirian before the age of 50 would be strange. Most would find it odd before getting close to 100. I’m really not looking for someone to settle down with right now.”

She then returns to the water’s edge and steps into the spring. She then grabs her drink. The mention of home brings her thoughts back to her younger siblings. Honestly, she wasn’t very hopeful about her chances of seeing them again. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked, but what was your world like?”

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Séanait had heard of wish giving before, and knew things rarely turned out as the wisher intended. Or, at least, she knew what all the old tales told. Some little part of her wondered if perhaps they and Ilta weren't wrong. Perhaps she could wish for home. It would be nice to go home.

"It twists your wishes, does it?"

Ilta stripped off and went to hang her things in a tree, so Séanait slipped off her drawers, picked up her sodden dress and followed. Ilta had a more feminine body that she did, and Séanait couldn't help but look at it. The patches of scales made her curious. Did Ilta feel things differently with her scales? Séanait impulsively touched a patch, up on one shoulder. It didn't feel quite as rough as she had expected.

"Do things feel different when they touch your scales?"

Ilta's comment on commitment threw Séanait for a loop, and she caught herself with her mouth half open stupidly and had to hurry for a couple of steps to catch back up with Ilta. Just how old did Ilta's kind get? How old was Ilta? Séanait had thought the woman about her own age, but now she realised that Ilta could be a good few years older.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you? I thought you were about my age, but if your kind are as long lived as you say, then you might be older than you look."

They headed back too the pool and, following Ilta's lead, Séanait slipped into the warm water with a sigh of pleasure. She immersed herself right up to her chin, laid her head back against the lip of the pool and closed her eyes. The warm water was extremely pleasant.

When Ilta asked her what home was like, Séanait cocked her head to one side and thought about the question, and then about her answer. It was harder than she liked, not knowing about the world here outside of Nova or her world back home apart from what she had seen and the Black Man had told her. Finally, she thought she had her answer.

"It's less magical and less kind, I think. What magic people wield back home is less powerful and more subtle than it is here, and the gods certainly don't do things like this," She waved her hand around at the romantic set up under the overhang, "What about you? You said you come from the future of this world, right? What's it like?"

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Perhaps, Ilta was more to blame for her appearance here if she was honest. She wasn’t specific in her wish at all. She wanted a way to change of things, but never listed any stipulations to that. “Maybe. Or maybe I wasn’t specific enough. One thousand years from now, Feyerlun is on the verge of destruction between being consumed by beings twisted by manna, being possibly enveloped in war, and being devastated under the power of artifacts that I do not really understand. And I stood on the cliffs and asked for a way to stop it. Now, I am here before all that began. So I guess it did give me what I wanted, but I don’t think there will be a home for me to go back to. Or if things go well, it won’t be the same.”

Not expecting the sudden contact, Ilta straightens up as Shy pokes her, but she quickly relaxes. However, she is appreciative for the lack of hesitation. Most humans seem to think they would be slimy like snakes. Always a strange conversation to have. “I haven’t noticed too much of a difference between the places with scales and the places without. I mean you can’t feel texture with them, but that’s about it.”

Ilta shakes her head when Shy assumes that she is older. “No, you’d be right about my age. We get to adulthood quick and sort of slow down from there… Most of us live for 400 or 500 years, provided they don’t magically extend their life in someway. Supposedly, my clan founder lived to be 2000 or so… but I take most of the family with a grain of salt. But I suppose I do believe that part where they say that she could turn into a dragon.” After all, Ilta was beginning to learn the transformation. She assumed anyone who lived to be 2000 years old would have completely mastered it at some point.

Using less powerful magic all the time seemed like a hassle. However, it didn’t seem as bad as Kail’s world. She wasn’t sure how Kail managed to live in a world without any magic. She rubs the back of her head as she thinks about the similarities between now and her version of the future. “With the exception of the world ending bit, a lot of the stuff is the same, like the songs, the gods, these springs. People seem happier here though. The gods aren’t quite as active in the future. People speak backwards. Also, the map is different. Heaven’s Pass separated all three kingdoms, but there was also a range at the northernmost edge of the continent, which is where I lived. The North was divided between two kingdoms, Setanul to the East and Oroun to the West. Oroun exists now, I think. The South was Toldale. Never been to Toldale, but they hunted mages down there, so I doubt I’d be welcomed.”

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Ilta's time, or world, or whatever it was, didn't sound like much fun. Séanait enjoyed war, but she also enjoyed winning it. From the sounds of it, Ilta's world was enveloped in war, surrounded by catastrophe, and under attack. It was no wonder that Ilta had wished whatever wish she had wished. It was just unfortunate that she had ended up here, without her family or friends. It did begin to explain why Ilta was as good as she was at fighting, though. You don't live through that sort of situation without picking up a few skills along the way.

"Would you want to go back, if you could? To see if your family was still there?"

Ilta stiffed when Séanait felt her scales, but seemed to relax afterwards as she answered Séanait's question. Séanait noted it, but didn't really think anything of it apart from the usual reaction to suddenly getting prodded by a naked woman. She eyed Ilta's scar and the blackened patch of skin around it and then traced the scar with her finger.

"What about this? The blackening doesn't look natural."

It was hard for Séanait to comprehend Ilta's potential lifespan. There were one or two heroes from legend who had lived long lives, but they'd either died before 150 or had lived multiple lives. For someone to be able to live potentially as long as two thousand years seemed, well, godlike, especially if you could reach that span of years through the use of magic. Oh, it wasn't very godlike for this world, Séanait knew that, but she was suddenly aware that Ilta could probably become a goddess if she ever came to Séanait's world.

"You know, people would probably worship you back home. Or, well, try and kill you. Especially if you ever managed to duplicated your ancestor's supposed feat."

The description of changes from Ilta's own world and the world they were currently in made Séanait wonder if the two were even the same. Could mountains disappear within a thousand years? The Black Man had said that they took thousands upon thousands of years rise, so how could those mountains appear within so short a time? Unless..unless magic was involved. Séanait didn't like the taste of that, but there it was.

"What if this isn't a past version of your world, but a completely different one?"

Why had she said that? said it. The implications were that whatever Ilta had wanted to stop might not even happen now, and Séanait wasn't sure how Ilta might take that. If Ilta was using that purpose as a way of staying strong and accepting her fate, then Séanait might have just done some real damage. She looked down at her glass of wine. Sometimes she just needed to keep her big mouth shut.

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Ilta quietly ponders the question for a few moments. Currently, she had convinced herself that there was no way back. It prevented her from getting her hopes up. From eternally waiting for some way to solve that problem. Ruling out the possibility of return never allowed her to consider the idea of what she would do if it was possible.

“No… probably not. Mostly, I’m not sure what I would do if I were to go back and none of them were there. I rather hope that they are, then go and find out if I’m wrong.” While part of that felt cowardly, it was the honest answer.

Her shoulder aches at the mention of it. Shy was dead right that it wasn’t a natural injury. It was the part that she liked least about the future. If she had a choice for how her world could of ended, death of the world by ancient powerful artifacts seemed preferable to death of the world by ravenous monsters than could spawn more with a simple scratch.

“In my world, there are things called Dusk. They devour just about any living things that they can. However, if you manage to survive the encounter with a mauling, there is a good chance that their disease will turn you into one as well or you’ll die of manna corruption. And on the off chance, there is someone who knows the specific spell to save you, there is a very high rate of failure. I was one of the lucky ones.”

At the idea of being worshipped like a god, Ilta laughs, “I wonder what they would think of the gods here, since I don’t have nearly as much magical power as they do. They can literally move mountains and rivers after all. As for the transforming into a dragon trick, working on it. I’m a long way off, but I’m working on it.”

In all honestly, she had considered that this world was a different one than the one she grew up in, especially after talking to Alex. Ilta shrugs, “It might be. I was told that there were a few differences between the past of my world and this current one. I think one of the largest ones is that I do not remember a god named Fate ever existing in mine. Also, Helena and Teleska did not exist in my time as well. However, I wonder if a god of Fate exists, wouldn’t he have the power to rewrite everything?”

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Séanait hadn't thought of that, although she should have. There were plenty of epics where the hero went to live with the gods, only to return a few hundred years later without even realising that more than a couple of years had passed. In most, they died as soon as they set foot on their home soil. What if she was returned, but hundreds of years later? Or to another part of the world? She might find herself alone in a world as strange and foreign as this one.

"Shit." She sat up, drained her glass and poured herself a new one, "You know, I hadn't really though about that. I've been using the old tales as my guide here, but I keep on forgetting how they all end. The hero always ends up worse off than when they started."

When Ilta talked about the chances of surviving a mauling from the "Dusk", Séanait looked pretty impressed, even after hearing that it had been someone else who had saved Ilta's life. To her way of thinking, determination and will to live had to have had something to do with Ilta's survival, regardless of how much magic had been applied externally. Surely magic couldn't help if the heart wasn't in it? Scars, and a strong fighting spirit, were normally turn ons for Shy, but she was still thinking about what might happen if she was returned home to a different time or place, so she sounded a bit distracted when she replied, rather than attracted.

"Lucky for us, eh?"

Séanait thought about how people back home would react to Nova's gods for a second or two, but she knew the answer pretty quickly.

"We'd stop trying to kill them pretty quick, I think. Especially if, like I've been told, these gods can't be killed."

Séanait shrugged her shoulders when the idea of Fate rewriting everything was brought up. It didn't make sense to here, it was the fate of those who wove it to weave it, but this was a different world to what she was used to. Anything might be different.

"Where I come from, the Fates might weave fate, but that is, in turn, their own fate. They might grant a man riches or a long life, but they can't change the larger pattern. All men and gods must die, and the world will always burn in the end."

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“Heroes… I wouldn’t say I’ve done anything amazing enough to earn that title. But I hear your point. The return home from the journey in stories doesn’t always go smoothly,” Ilta says, thinking back to old stories. Really, there was a 50-50 chance of it ending in tragedy somehow. Life did not wait for people. No one could control the course of time. However, she would see them all in the Glade eventually. They would not be torn apart forever.

“I’m growing use to the idea of staying here. It isn’t that bad here. I just need to avoid any run-ins with my ancestors because I am not quite sure what I would do then.” Getting them to believe her might be difficult as it wasn’t like someone could vouch for her. And even if they did, how would they react to her existence?

Talking about the old wound made her shoulder ache. She didn’t consider herself lucky about surviving. Part of her held quite a bit of guilt as most of her immediate family ended up dying. “Yeah… lucky for us. Enough about my scars. You must have more interesting stories than nearly being eaten alive if yours are any indication. At least three.”

Ilta recalls what Alex said about the gods as Shy says they couldn’t be killed. Ilta shakes her head, “I’ve been told the gods can die. It’s just very difficult to kill them off. I don’t know how much truth was in that, but I’m almost comforted by the idea that nothing is really immortal.”

All men and gods must die, and in the end, the world burns. There probably weren’t any truer sentiments to live by. Ilta raises a glass, “But let’s hope for none of that being any time soon. I hope you're right about Fate because I’m not sure I could handle the idea of not having any control over my own destiny.”

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Séanait stared at her glass of wine, brooding. Faced with the prospect of never being able to go home, she wasn't sure what she could do. For the first time since she had arrived in Nova, Séanait began to feel alone and afraid. No doubt Breasal would survive without her, and he would lead her men well enough, but she feared for him all the same. He was the type to brood on things and lose his grip on what was important in life. Just then, she truly, truly missed him and had to hide hear tears by draining her glass again and refilling it.

"Heroes is a relative term. Protagonist might be better."

The issue of running into an ancestor was a tricky one, and it returned Séanait to a little bit of better humour. She smiled and poked Ilta in the ribs.

"Who knows, maybe you're your own ancestor?"

The story about how Ilta got her scar obviously bothered her, so Séanait was more than happy to tell how she got her scars. She always enjoyed a bit of boasting, even if most of her scars weren't anything to boast about. She started at the top, with her most prized scar. Tracing it across her cheek she said, "This one is from when we fought King Diarmaid and King Muircheartach. Together they outnumbered us six to one, but we drew up in a narrow draw, so they could only come at us with a few men at a time. I was in the second line when they hit us. We got pushed back about a hundred feet before we held them, and I got a spear trapped between my nose guard and cheek flap." She smiled almost fondly, "It hurt like buggery, but we won in the end. Killed a hundred times our number."

Séanait moved down to the scar from an arrow on her shoulder, fingering it lightly, "This one's from an arrow. I took it in my first battle, when I fought for Caohim. Breasal dragged me from the battle just before the rout started and I managed to avoid infection as we traveled to Werraland."

Finally she moved on to a collection of scars on her arms, the one between her breasts and the one on her belly, "These are all from a drunken fight I got into during my second campaign. I don't remember what it was about, just that it was with one of the locals. I probably should have died, but we've got a really good seamstress back in the Thusends. They're why I wear armour whenever I go out somewhere these days."

The memory of a final scar she had gotten came to mind and Séanait smiled wickedly at Ilta, completely forgetting her troubles for a moment as she made a bet as to whether or not she could get Ilta to blush or not. She pulled herself out of the water and pointed to her left leg, right at the groin.

"You might have to lean in a bit to see it, but I've got another one there. The whores and I got drinking one night, see, and one of them's from way down south and never has any hair below her head. So, I asked her if all the women down south were as bald, and she told me that they just shave! I decided to try it out myself, then and there, only all I had was my langseax." She could barely finish her tale from laughing, "Turns out, a short sword shouldn't be used to shave your cunt. That was one hell of an embarrassing trip to the seamstress."

Séanait, still flaunting herself in an attempt to fluster Ilta, clinked her glass against Ilta's before taking a sip.

"To the world not burning."

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Ilta notices Shy looks a little distressed, but doesn’t push the subject. She wonders what went wrong, but figures if Shy wanted her to know, she would have said something.

“Still, I hardly think the attention is on my enough to even warrant calling myself a protagonist. I prefer to be a background character anyways. I can’t stand being the center of attention.”

Ilta laughs at Shy suggests that she would be her own ancestor. “I think I’m safe from that since I have yet to find a man that I would sleep with. There would have to be a lot of magic involved in order to get that to happen. Besides, I’m not sold on the idea of raising a family.” She’d probably never have a family of her own, but she was fine with that. Now, there was the possibility of adoption. However, she spent enough of her childhood looking after her siblings that she didn’t care much to have children of her own anymore. Her mother was always of the belief that she would eventually change her mind on the matter though.

Scars were always attractive to Ilta despite not really having any of her own. She sometimes considered fighting without magic, but her self-preservation instinct normally overrode that decision at some point during fights where she was likely to be injured. However, she always liked how they had a story. Shy’s war record was impressive. Ilta can hardly imagine fighting in a large army or standing against another country’s soldiers. She fought small skirmishes with wild beasts and the occasional bandits. War was an entirely different beast, and one she didn’t know that much about.

Ilta wasn’t to easy to fluster despite staring directly at another person’s genitalia. However, she does grow a little red, but only slightly. She shakes her head at the shaving story. “And I thought that was going to belong to some bizarre sex story.”

Ilta raises her class to the toast. “To the world not burning.”

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Séanait had to grin at Ilta's comments. Avoiding glory was a foreign concept to her, and she fully intended to gain enough of it that even her enemies would sing of her. That was the best - the only - way to gain immortality.

"Ah, come now," She gave Ilta's shoulder a friendly punch, "A little bit of glory never hurt anyone. Why, I'll be you'll be remembered around here for what you did at the Ball a hundred years from now, when I'm all dead and gone."

It surprised Séanait that Ilta didn't want a family. Oh, there were plenty of men and women she knew who didn't have any great desire for marriage or raising a brood of squalling brats but, if she'd had to pick which of them was more likely to want a family, she'd never have picked herself over Ilta. Ilta just seemed the solid, practical type who want to have children eventually. Séanait, on the other hand, was quite a wild and wanton woman, but she seemed to want children more. Oh, she didn't want them right now, and she definitely didn't want to give birth to them herself, but that farm she and Breasal would buy would need children to complete it.

The other thing Séanait picked up on was that Ilta didn't seem to fancy men all that much. She knew Ilta preferred the (allegedly) gentler sex, but she hadn't thought it was a total preference. That, she supposed, ruled out her ever bringing a man home to share if she and Ilta ever started sleeping together. Still, not altogether a bad thing. It meant that she could probably bring home another woman, after all.

"You know, I'm surprised. I'd never have guessed that, of the two of us, I was the one who'd like a family more."

Ilta didn't get particularly flustered at Séanait's story, but she did blush very prettily and Séanait felt satisfaction at that. Then, when Ilta mentioned that she had expected a wild sex story, Séanait laughed again and then leaned in towards Ilta and, in a very soft tone, whispered right into Ilta's ear with as much seductiveness as she could manage.

"Oh, I have plenty of those. Would you like to hear them?"

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe some kind of spell cast by the gods, but Séanait had finally decided how she wanted this day to end, and it didn't involved staying in the springs the whole time.